


In Relief

by gigantic



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Comfort, Crushes, Hand Jobs, Injury Recovery, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 06:53:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16470854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigantic/pseuds/gigantic
Summary: After an hour of nothing but glimpses, Auston finally comes back into the locker room with his shoulder wrapped.





	In Relief

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place the night of Auston's injury versus the Winnipeg Jets. Many thanks to M for the help.

It takes time to get cleaned up, for interviews to finish, and then to get dressed. Freddie doesn't see much of Auston for a while after the game. After an hour of nothing but glimpses, Auston finally comes back into the locker room with his shoulder wrapped, an ice pack strapped down underneath the cloth.

“Fuck,” Freddie says as Auston walks up to him. “How’re you doing?”

“Fine,” Auston says, which isn’t surprising, but Freddie can still feel his face twitch, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Annoyed.”

“Pain?”

Auston shakes his head. “Not really. They gave me something. Not the really good stuff, but—”

Freddie snorts and touches Auston’s shoulder gently, feeling the shape of the bandaging. Auston’s eyes fall shut, like he’s bracing for tenderness, but Freddie’s careful. Auston doesn’t wince once.

“Sucks,” Freddie says. 

Auston twists his mouth. He nods, one sharp dip of his head that can either be agreement or resolve. “Scans on Monday, when the team’s back in.”

“Hopefully it’s minor.”

“Yeah, hopefully,” Auston echoes.

Freddie’s tempted to ask if Auston wants a ride home, but he’s not sure if this is big enough to break usual routines. Auston already has his post-games worked out. The closest he gets is asking, “Need anything?”

Auston hums thoughtfully but says, “I’ll be alright.” 

Since he doesn’t take the opening, Freddie pats his lapel encouragingly and turns back to his bag. “Get rest, okay?”

It doesn’t take long for Freddie to finish organizing his stall. Most of the other guys are finished too, teammates gradually leaving the arena to drive home. Mitch is still hanging around long after Auston disappears. Confused, Freddie interrupts his conversation with Morgan to ask, “Where’s Matts? I thought you two would’ve been gone already.”

Mo says, “I think Auston did take off.”

“We didn’t come in together today,” Mitch says. “I had a last-minute thing come up.”

“He was good to drive?” 

Mitch shrugs. “He kept saying so.”

“Alright,” Freddie says and lifts his chin as a goodbye. “Night, boys.”

When Freddie gets out to the parking garage, he isn’t expecting to see Auston’s car so he almost misses it. He’s in the driver’s seat, backing up when he looks to his left and notices it parked a little ways off. It’s tough to make out Auston clearly, but it does look like someone’s in the car. Freddie reverses out of his space fully and drives the short distance to pull into the space right next to Auston’s car. 

Auston is leaning into the window, eyes closed when Freddie walks around to get to Auston’s driver’s side door. Freddie tries to tap on the window gently, but Auston’s eyes still fly open quickly, alarmed. He swears and takes a breath once he realizes who’s standing right next to his head. Freddie laughs as he presses the window button enough to crack it without having to really sit upright.

“Hey,” Freddie says.

“Hi.” 

Freddie taps the glass with his fingernail lightly. “You’re gonna get a crick in your neck.”

Auston grumbles. “I’m trying to go home.”

He doesn’t really whine, but it comes out so sluggish and disappointed that Freddie can’t help another sympathetic chuckle. Auston’s clearly trying to rest his head without putting too much pressure on his shoulder at the same time, making him hunch toward the window awkwardly. It would be funny if it wasn’t so sad.

“What stopped you?” 

“I overestimated these painkillers,” Auston says. “The pain’s not even sharp, but there’s this throbbing. And trying to put both hands on the wheel didn’t feel great.”

“Yeah, that’ll keep you from going anywhere.” Freddie hooks one finger over the edge of the window, imagining that he can push it down inch by inch. “Want me to drive you?”

“I’m trying to psych myself up to do this.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I don’t want to leave my car here,” Auston says. 

Freddie glances back to his own vehicle. He actually remembered to take stuff out of his trunk earlier this week. Looking between the car and Auston one more time tips his hand. 

“I’ll leave mine,” he says. “Open up.”

“Dude—”

“Press the unlock.”

Auston does, finally. He only pushes the door open a fraction and then shifts out of the way to let Freddie widen the gap without spilling Auston out onto the pavement. 

“You still have to get out of the seat,” Freddie says, ducking in to give Auston something solid to brace against. He doesn’t want to tug since Auston’s left shoulder is the one that’s wrapped, but Auston manages to twist his way out and onto his feet without overburdening his injury. “There you go.”

Walking around to the other side is easy enough. Auston sits in the passenger seat and exhales in a rush once all his weight is settled. He fumbles his right hand until he can recline and gives Freddie a half-volume thank you, the tension seeping out of his posture. 

“No problem.”

Freddie goes back to the driver’s side and slides in. Shutting the door, he leans across Auston to reach for his seatbelt and pulls it across his torso. Auston moans unhappily when he has to move his left arm enough to make sure the belt gets where it needs to go.

“Sorry,” Freddie says after he hears the click. He eyes Auston for a moment, watching the fist curled tight over his thigh slowly, slowly unclench as Auston’s discomfort eases. 

He turns away to start the car and punch at Auston’s display until he gets the radio playing and then toggles back to the maps. Freddie knows, generally, how to get to Auston’s from the arena, but the traffic on the map helps him decide which ways would probably mean the least amount of sitting and waiting. By the time Freddie’s ready to hit the road, Auston has started dozing off. There’s enough slack in his grip that Freddie could slide fingers under and hold on. He doesn’t.

Even with his best intentions, they end up caught in some Saturday night traffic. Freddie hums along with the radio to combat impatience and looks to check on Auston when the cars come to a stand still. Auston’s brow furrows and he shifts, prompting Freddie to reach out.

“You okay?”

Auston doesn’t answer. Freddie can’t tell if it’s discomfort from trying rest in a seat or shoulder pain or both. Auston is still asleep, though, not even budging when Freddie touches his hair. He smoothes it back, splitting his attention between the road and Auston, and touches his thumb to the troubled space above Auston’s eyes.

A car horn beeps behind them. Freddie brings both hands back to the steering wheel and taps the gas pedal, gliding forward. 

About a block away from Auston’s place, Freddie realizes he didn’t think past the first part of this plan. Once he parks Auston’s car, he’s not sure if he should find his way back to the arena or just go home and deal with it tomorrow. Even when he pulls into the space a couple minutes later, he hasn’t decided. At least getting Auston on his way upstairs gives him another way to stall.

“Alright, sleepy,” he says. He ruffles Auston’s hair again and retreats as soon as Auston opens his eyes.

Auston yawns, scrunches his face and stretches his good arm out in front of him. “Thank you for driving,” he says. 

“No problem,” Freddie says. 

He’s glad Auston doesn’t comment on Freddie stroking his hair, then feels immediately annoyed that he cares about that at all. They’re close. Freddie showing Auston compassion doesn’t have to mean more than what it is. Kindness isn’t pushing boundaries. He turns off the car completely and clears his throat.

Auston says, “Okay. Getting out of this car in fifteen seconds.”

“Do you need help up?”

“I don’t think so.” Auston sighs. “Just willpower.” 

“Sure.” Freddie pulls his phone out of his inside jacket pocket and reviews what messages he’s missed, just to give his eyes something else to focus on. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll call a car or something.”

Despite his efforts, Freddie can still see the way Auston frowns in his peripheral vision. “You’re not coming in?” he asks.

The fact that he sounds like he’s surprised is the real shock here. It’s one thing for a friend to give another friend a lift home, but Auston is probably going right to bed when he gets indoors.

“Are you sure I should?” Freddie asks, which he hates the moment it’s out of his mouth. “I mean—you were trying escape alone earlier.”

Auston says, “Now that we’re here, lying around and working myself up over whether I’ll need surgery sounds terrible.”

“You could just go right to sleep.”

“Are you saying you don’t want to come in?”

That isn’t what Freddie is saying at all. It definitely isn’t what he’s feeling. He wants a lot. Under normal circumstances, hanging out with Auston would be just that, but this is Auston wanting to be taken care of. This is Auston asking Freddie to be there to comfort him. This is Auston asking Freddie to stay when they still haven’t talked about how they ended up having sex the last time Freddie was over while Auston was injured. 

“I think—”

“Hang out here,” Auston says, the tone of his voice edging closer to pleading. “If I’m tired, I know you have to be. Please?”

Lingering feels unnecessarily complicated, but leaving would make Freddie an asshole. He pushes open the driver’s side door and makes sure to grab Auston’s keys. Auston is able to shove the passenger door wide easily, because it’s his right side. Freddie still circles around to make sure Auston has help if he needs it. 

“Did you put a bag in your trunk or anything?” 

“No, not tonight. I left everything in the locker room, since I’m still showing up Monday.”

“Alright,” Freddie says, resisting the urge to curve his arm around Auston’s back and pull him closer. Auston’s legs work fine. 

Once they’re outside of Auston’s front door, Freddie does at least unlock it for him. He holds the door open while Auston enters and toes off his shoes. Freddie does the same, then follows behind Auston as he bypasses the living room completely. In his bedroom, Auston starts to tug at his shirt one-handed, making more of a mess than any real progress. 

Freddie smiles, amused, and says, “Hold on. Let me.”

He finds the start of the wrap and undoes it, unwinding the fabric. Freddie moves to Auston’s front and keeps at the unraveling, eyes on Auston’s shoulder to resist looking at his face. He doesn’t even notice how intently he’s maintaining that until Auston says, “Thanks,” and Freddie realizes it’s weird to half-ignore the person he’s touching. 

“No problem.” He raises his gaze, but Auston isn’t smiling or anything. He doesn’t look like he’s angling for something either. Instead his expression is soft, maybe a little unfocused thanks to fatigue and painkillers. 

He takes a breath and says, “I have a support brace in my closet, from earlier this year. It has cold-pack inserts that I’ve just left in the freezer.” 

Freddie deliberately doesn’t think about March. Auston’s shoulder had been mostly healed when Freddie came over while the team was traveling to Buffalo. He hadn’t even really needed a brace at that point.

“I’ll get the ice while you get the cuff,” Freddie says, bunching the medical wrap in his hands as the last of it falls away from Auston’s chest. 

Freddie exhales as he goes to Auston’s kitchen. He finds the cold packs and brings them back. Auston has managed to get his shirt off completely, tugging the shoulder brace up on his own. Freddie moves in again to slide the cold packs into their respective pockets, and then brings the torso strap across Auston’s front to clasp the whole thing together. 

“Good?” he asks, sliding his palm up until it rests over Auston’s collarbone. 

Auston says, “Yeah.” 

He tips his head back, eyes fluttering shut. Freddie’s hand glides back instinctively, supporting Auston’s neck. Somehow it makes it too easy for Auston to tip forward a few moments later, dropping his forehead to Freddie’s shoulder. Freddie rubs at Auston’s nape soothingly, bringing his right arm up in an embrace. 

“Does it hurt?” 

“Not much,” Auston mumbles. “It’s still just irritating.” He turns his head against Freddie’s neck, his lips grazing skin as he asks. “Are you sleeping here?” 

Freddie doesn’t quite snort. It’s more a sharp push of air. “Why do you want me to?” 

“Because I feel bad,” he says. “I hate feeling sorry for myself, and you’re good at making me feel better.” 

Freddie hums in acknowledgement, mostly so he doesn’t say something embarrassing. Last time had been nothing like this really. Freddie had been day-to-day; Auston was nearing return. It was closer to a regular hangout than this, but they’d been alone, with no one else even in town, and somehow that made him feel like they might’ve been on an entirely different planet rather than in Toronto.

“Lie down,” Freddie says. It’s safer than promising anything. “You’re supposed to be resting.”

Freddie busies himself with picking up Auston’s discarded shirt so that Auston can undo his pants in peace. He folds it and sets it aside, then does the same with Auston’s pants as Auston slips into bed. Setting both aside, Freddie walks around to take the unoccupied half, flopping onto the blankets.

“What is that?” Auston says. “You’re planning to sleep in your slacks and everything?”

“I’m only hanging out.”

“What you are is the guy who’s pinning all my covers in place.” Auston jabs at Freddie’s thigh with his right hand. “Get comfortable.” 

“You’re persistent.”

“You’re stubborn.” Auston says, trying to tug at the blankets to indicate what a nuisance Freddie’s created. Freddie wiggles in place but doesn’t really budge, and Auston frowns. “I’m hurting. Be sweet to me.” 

Laughing, Freddie says, “I always am.” He untucks his shirt and slides down, gradually slumping and scooting until his head is lying on the pillow next to Auston. “Happy?”

“See, that wasn’t hard.” Auston smiles, smug. Freddie rolls his eyes. “It only took me half a year.”

Freddie’s heart jumps up in his throat, but he swallows past it and says, as nonchalantly as he can, “For what? I brought dinner to you just a few days ago.”

“Not like this.” Auston says, yawning. “I can’t make it a habit to get hurt just to get you in my bedroom.”

Freddie really does scoff at that. “Don’t joke about injuries.” 

“Look at me,” Auston says, voice dropping closer and closer to a whisper.

Freddie blinks at the ceiling. After Auston repeats himself and Freddie still doesn’t give in, Auston rolls onto his right ride. “Hey!” Freddie says, trying to stop him. “Don’t risk straining your shoulder.”

“This one’s fine,” Auston says, though Freddie can see in the way Auston’s mouth tugs that the pull across his shoulder blades isn’t totally harmless. “I tried to get your attention.”

“I was listening.”

“Seven months.” Auston sniffs, looking down at Freddie’s face.

Freddie could play dumb, but drawing this out isn’t something he’s interested in. “I know.”

“You started playing again, and then,” Auston says, with an abortive shrug, “nothing.”

“You didn’t talk about it. I thought you didn’t want to.”

“I was following _your_ lead.” Exasperation gets the best of Auston for a moment, like Freddie’s saying something crazy. “I’m not gonna—between you and me, when am I the one that just doesn’t talk? I thought, I guess, this is how Fred hooks up. Be cool.”

“I’m not the one that was getting out of a relationship,” Freddie points out.

“You thought you were a rebound?” Auston asks, eyes widening.

“I wasn’t?”

“No. Well, not like that.” Auston huffs, drooping in a way that makes Freddie wary of the way he’s balancing his weight. “We didn’t have to act like it didn’t happen.”

“I wasn’t trying to.”

“Really?” Auston says. His exhale seem so heartfelt. “You had me freaking out after the playoffs.”

There’s nothing about those words that should be endearing, but fondness surges in Freddie anyway. “Auston.”

“I sent the dumbest, vague set of texts to my buddy,” Auston’s say, caught up in recalling a conversation Freddie missed. Freddie tries to say his name again, but Auston’s still going. “That’s on me for asking for advice from a guy who’s only ever been in long-term relationships. But I don’t know, man, I started thinking maybe it was bad or some—”

Freddie kisses Auston. He has to. It’s either that or explain to Auston out loud that he wasn’t bad, that Freddie’s thought about him since then, that it’s embarrassing how one night has made him wonder what it would be like to be the person to make Auston moan that way all the time. Putting that into words is harder, so he presses his lips to Auston’s and slowly coaxes him onto his back again, until Freddie’s the one hovering.

“You’re supposed to be lying down,” he whispers after a minute, his mouth brushing Auston’s. 

“Your fault,” Auston mumbles. “You wouldn’t look at me.”

Freddie kisses him again, softer, and he takes the opportunity to slide his hand down Auston’s belly while Auston’s distracted. His fingers bump over the waist of Auston’s underwear, then underneath. 

“This better?” he asks. 

“Oh. Yeah,” Auston breathes. “I can work with that.”

Chuckling in his ear, Freddie wraps his hand around Auston’s cock and strokes. When he’s hard, Freddie loosens his grip and runs his thumb around the crown and over the head, teasing Auston until he groans through his teeth and curses Freddie’s name. 

“With me?”

“Remember when I said be nice?” Auston says, complaining. 

Freddie shows him mercy, encircling Auston’s cock again and jerking him off in earnest. The last time they did this, there was more grinding and frantic kisses. Freddie loved it, but getting to touch Auston exploringly and listen to the way he moans, low appreciative rolls of his voice — that feels special too. Taking care of Auston isn’t the problem. It’s how much Freddie wants to do it. 

“This isn’t nice?” he asks.

“Fuck.” The word twists up, Auston bending his knees slightly and pushing his feet out again, restless. His right hand jumps up like he’s about to touch Freddie’s arm or do something else, get involved, but Freddie shifts his leg over one of Auston’s to pin him down. 

“You’re relaxing,” Freddie reminds him, and Auston groans. 

His head turns in, like he can hide his face against Freddie’s throat. It makes his shoulders round, enough to steal Freddie’s focus. He leans across Auston’s body, intending to guide Auston down again, but he doesn’t want to break the rhythm of his hand. He kisses Auston’s left shoulder and noses over the cuff gently. It’s stupid, and worse, it’s saccharine, but somehow the move works. Auston squares his shoulders on the bed again. Freddie kisses his way across Auston’s collar and back up to his mouth. Auston’s lush hum against Freddie’s lips inspires something fizzy to bloom in Freddie’s chest. 

His legs start to shift again after a while. Freddie takes it to mean he’s getting close, body too wound up to hold still. Confirmation comes when Auston breaks their kissing to say, “If you make me come in my shorts, I’ll have to stand again to go get clean.”

It shocks another laugh out of Freddie. He plants another quick peck on Auston’s mouth. “Good point.”

At first Freddie thinks to push the blankets and Auston’s underwear down. Once he sees Auston’s cock, though, and his hand wrapped around it, he gets a different idea and inches down the bed to chase instinct.

“Oh, shit,” Auston says, as if Freddie hasn’t done this for him already once before. “Yes, fuck.”

Freddie takes Auston in his mouth and sucks. He keeps jerking Auston off as he does, fingers wrapped around where his lips don’t reach. Auston’s right hand touches Freddie’s hair, his grip flexing without real strength supporting it. He’s just scrabbling. 

Sporadic curses turn insistent after a few minutes, Auston chanting them under his breath like they’re a lifeline. Freddie bobs his head and then switches to more deliberate suction when he thinks Auston’s on the edge, trying to pull him over, and Auston’s thighs jump when he comes. Freddie swallows until Auston collapses again and kisses the side of his cock, running his lips along the shaft just to make Auston shudder. 

Licking his lips, Freddie sits up and says, “Now you don’t have to get up.”

Auston laughs breathily. “Smartass.” He holds out his good arm as Freddie makes his way up again. “Let me get you.”

Freddie threads his fingers through Auston’s and pins his hand back on the sheets. “Later.”

“Come on,” Auston says. “You’re fucking rock hard. I can tell.” He tries to get out of Freddie’s grip, but Freddie holds on. “If I’m bad, just tell me how to—”

“You’re not bad,” Freddie says, insistent. Athletes are nightmares. “You’re resting.”

The noise Auston makes is almost a growl, somewhere between frustration and surrender. “Okay, alright.” He sighs and lets Freddie kiss him slowly. Everything goes quiet except the soft sound of their mouths and the occasional shush of bedding as they shift. Eventually, Auston pauses enough to say, “I want to get you naked so you don’t leave.” 

Freddie smiles. “Interesting plan.”

“Stay here,” Auston says, simply. “Please?” 

It’s the second time Auston has used that word on him. Freddie still doesn’t feel equipped to say no in the face of it. 

“If you want,” he says. 

Auston nods. A grin gradually takes over his face. Freddie pulls back enough to see the way it stretches up. “Get naked.”

Laughing, Freddie gets to his knees to oblige. He takes off his shirt and then extends his legs to shimmy out of his pants with a stunning lack of grace. Auston is watching, but he doesn’t laugh or anything, just says, “Covers, please,” when Freddie’s done and let out a content sound as Freddie pulls the sheets and blanket up. 

“Do you need me to do anything else?” Freddie asks, going for friendly mocking, but he makes the mistake of looking in Auston’s eyes and has to deal with the fact that he honestly means it. He’s meant it all night. 

Auston shakes his head. “I’m good,” he says, then pauses in thought. “Actually, you could make out with me some more. I think it’s helping.”

Freddie laughs again and leans in. That he can do.


End file.
